


A Kaleidoscope of Feathers

by RainyyDitz



Series: 30 different Prompts [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Graffiti, My First AO3 Post, One Shot, Other, Punk Castiel (Supernatural), Rebel Castiel (Supernatural), Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:14:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23031532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainyyDitz/pseuds/RainyyDitz
Summary: "Why a character created a piece of street artwork.”---Where Castiel is a street artist, and creates a piece to represent himself
Series: 30 different Prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1662289
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4
Collections: 30 Different Prompts





	A Kaleidoscope of Feathers

**Author's Note:**

> The first fic to go into my [ 30 Different Prompts collection](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/30_Different_Prompts)

The hissing sound of the paint spraying from the nozzle was cut short with every quick, choppy stroke the spray paint followed, the owner of the hand holding the can paying close attention to detail as he worked on his piece. His pupils were constricted, giving way to a large expanse of intense blue that his iris contained as he focused on his handiwork, following the strokes scrupulously.

The artist wore a black earloop mask, to avoid his chances of inhaling the paint and damaging his lungs in the process, as well as tight-fitting blue latex gloves on his hands to keep any law enforcement officers from finding his fingerprints on the unbearably cold brick wall. He wore a large, dark blue hoodie with no design, paired with black denim jeans, and worn-out, generic sneakers.

This outfit was his typical choice whenever he felt the need to leave his mark on any of the city’s older buildings, no matter if it was abandoned or full of people.

The man hissed quietly and flinched away for a short moment as the paint spattered his face, as well as a small part of his hoodie’s front. This shortcoming wasn’t uncommon, as he normally had to put his clothes in the wash after using his spray paints. He cursed softly, scowling bitterly up at his unfinished artwork on the wall, whose remarkably bright array of neon colors stood out against the dreary, dull red of the brick wall it had been applied to.

He took a step back to canvass the way that its colors complemented each other, grinning exuberantly under his mask as he admired the work of art. The image was of a pair of graceful, angelic wings, each one stretched out like a bird’s during flight, with their brightly colored feathers standing out proudly. It was easy to assume the lively array of colors clashing together would draw many others’ attention where it was situated.

Between the wings, connecting them, sat a thin ring of gold that contained three  _ very _ simple letters, written in a bubbled font: CAS, a shortened form of his own name, and he had chosen the nickname because he had never heard anyone refer to him with it. Normally it was either Cassie or Cassandra, both from his family, or his, quite bothersome, friend Balthazar.

His full name, Castiel, was the slightly altered version of an angel’s name. Of course, his mother had to name him after the archangel Cassiel, the ruling prince of the Seventh Heaven, and who had also happened to be the angel of temperance.

What a fortuity that Cas had never seemed to find any interest in drinking anything containing alcohol, as he very much did not look forward to having hangovers.

Now, why had Castiel created this epitome of pure grandeur and wonder? Well, the answer is fairly simple, if you think about it.

The colors, as well as the specific way they were coordinated on the wall, represented himself in a very intricate way.

The marginal coverts and alula feathers were made to be a deep, royal purple, representing his independence from the rest of society. The primary coverts had been colored a bright turquoise-based color, for his tranquility, while the secondary coverts were a bright Fuschia, for his caring and kind personality.

The white and gold of the primary feathers symbolized his peace of mind, as well as his wisdom, and the blue secondaries portrayed the confidence in his abilities. And finally, the scapulars had been colored inky black, a color very close to the shade of his own hair, that represented his anonymity and mysterious air.

Now, why around his name? That was a simple answer.

Ever since he was small, his mother would tell him, constantly, about how he was destined to become an angel, a very powerful and trustworthy one at that, as well as declaring that his heavenly wings would be an almost exact mirror of his true self. Castiel could never stop imagining what his wing could possibly look like, even after converting to agnosticism.

Originally, he had imagined that his wings would be entirely black, which would clearly signify that he was an all-out mystery of a person before he had deducted that it was impossible for that to happen after he had slowly found out his personalities and the things that he loved. It had taken himself years after his mother’s death to figure out the proper colors, and which feather sections they would fit perfectly within.

Cas had sincerely wanted to add a pale green outline to the whole image, to signify his love for nature and the world around them, but the paint had splattered onto his hoodie just as he was starting, and now he had to leave the piece (sadly) unfinished, or else it would be too late to try and wash the fabric once he got home.

He sighed irritably, scowling down at his clothes before he started snatching up the scattered spray paint cans, stuffing them in a duffel bag he had tossed to his left. While shoving the cans into the pack, he couldn’t help but glance back at the artwork a handful more times, smiling at how well it stood out, drawing more attention to it than all the other graffiti that was currently littering the walls around the same area.

Once he was done packing everything up into the bag, he slung the duffel over his shoulder, taking in the admirable artistry one last time, before turning and walking hurriedly down the alley, towards the small parking lot where his Lincoln Continental was sitting, waiting for his inevitable return.

Cas tossed the bag into the trunk and had to slam it shut since the latch had a knack of coming undone if it wasn’t closed tight enough, and he didn’t want to risk his bag falling out the back, which would end with cans covering the road and just being a Not All That Great situation for him and other drivers. After making sure that it was latched, Castiel hopped into the driver’s seat, shoving the key right into the ignition and twisting it, listening to the engine rumble to life, the sound muffled within the confines of the vehicle.

He pulled out of his parking space, glancing around quickly to make sure no one had seen how oddly he had looked wearing all dark clothing and a duffel bag over his shoulder, before turning the wheels and heading quickly out of the area.

Cas left the city feeling satisfied, the side of his mouth quirked up in a small smile and his blue eyes shining as he drove along the interstate, taking the long way back to his home.

**Author's Note:**

> I sincerely apologize for how short it is :') I'm doing this personal prompt challenge to increase my writing ability.


End file.
